


Stranger Than You Dreamt It

by Otherwise_Uncolonized



Series: ♕ Union of the Crowns [2]
Category: Frozen (2013), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Romance, Asexual Character, Assassination Plot(s), Attempted Seduction, Blackmail, Brothers, Courtship, Crossover, Dark Comedy, Debauchery, Delusions, Depression, Desire, Disfigurement, Disturbing Fluff, Drama & Romance, Dream Sex, Drinking & Talking, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Genocide, Grief/Mourning, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Intense, Internal Conflict, Kindred Spirits, Loneliness, Love Triangles, Macabre, Manipulation, Marriage of Convenience, Masturbation, Morbid, Murder Family, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Not Beta Read, Not a Love Story, Objectification, Obsession, Off-screen Relationship(s), Open to Interpretation, Original Character-centric, Paranoia, Period-Typical Sexism, Physical Abuse, Poisoning, Possessive Behavior, Post-Frozen (2013), Pseudo-Incest, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Psychopaths In Love, Racism, Revised Version, Royalty, Self-Denial, Self-Destruction, Self-Hatred, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Frustration, Shameless Smut, Spoilers, Suicide Attempt, The Southern Isles (Disney), Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vanity, Visions in dreams, Worship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otherwise_Uncolonized/pseuds/Otherwise_Uncolonized
Summary: ·´¯`·.¸༺[❄]༺๑۩8۩๑༻[♚]༻¸.·´¯`·"She is the master of her own womanhood, the queen of her own muliebrity, and no man captains her."Prince Hans's brother, Aloysius, has a sick obsession with Queen Elsa.





	Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betagyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betagyre/gifts), [mhs0501](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mhs0501/gifts), [outindaylight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outindaylight/gifts), [butterflydreaming (chrysalisdreams)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrysalisdreams/gifts), [Metamorphiac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metamorphiac/gifts), [ArumaR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArumaR/gifts), [yogabunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogabunny/gifts), [Ezfa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezfa/gifts).



* * *

༺ **[** ❄ **]** **༻** ♕༺ **[** ☀ **]** ༻   

_"I've never seen a man get on his knees to kiss my hands and tell me "what a rare, perfect, and beautiful monument of a woman" I am because of my powers. I've never been called "flawless" so many times (or any time) in my lifetime by a regular person; it was horrifying and demobilizing after years of hearing the exact opposite. It didn't make me feel attracted to him or anything shallow like that, but I almost didn't turn my head in time when he stood up to kiss me."_

__―[ **Elsa (My Dearest Cousin)**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5674921/chapters/16462678)_ _

* * *

* * *

He is christened the “ugliest brother” because he wears a third degree burn scar on his face. The branders have called it a gravure of their imperium and an embossment of his insignificance. He had been handsome, once — once when life had been handsome, too — and all who saw his handsomeness had enskied him. Women loved him then. Now, they only love his burners.

The burners of his future have never known love. Theirs is a household that has been tutored to murder and manipulate. Brethren were jugulated for practice, wives were raped for pleasure, and nephews were poisoned for power. Familicide, and familicide only, was the rung that pulled the Westergaard princes closer to the crown and Father's respect. Respect was erelong awarded to the son who'd slain him in his bed.

 _"Well done,"_  Father had burbled under a cloud of foam. 

Father’s appreciation had been requited by the loving smile of Ragnar. This Westergaard, who is the present king of Father’s divided kingdom, is neither callous nor contentious by definition. Often when one meets him, they will meet his mellow smile and mellow eyes — the golden [krones](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danish_krone) of his soft-spoken person. Even while he is harvesting the organs of a julienned whore, he will caress the bloody giblets with a mellow smile. Betimes in the morning on which he was scheduled to butterfly Baroness Danebod’s kidneys, Ragnar summoned a painting into the drawing room.

“Queen Elsa of Arendelle is a pretty species of strangeness, isn’t she?” Ragnar asked Aloysius.

Aloysius did not part from his book of conjury. Under the shelter of his eyebrows, he peeked at the mistress of interest to slake his own. Eyes that were as quiet as they were loud smiled back at him, encircled by a face that was babylike and contradicted by a figure that was all woman. Her fair complexion, exotic makeup, and flaxen hair were beyond compare. The dress she wore was basted with sleet and other curiosities that frozen vapor could not form unless magic had formed them, lending her not only a peerless splendor, but a femininity that winged beyond Man's comprehension.

Legs, in Man's epoch, are lawed to stay hidden under petticoats to keep men clean-hearted. Female hair, in Man's religion, is ordered to stay pinned up to keep womenfolk from looking sensual. Dresses, in Man's custom, are designed to conceal women's indecencies. Makeup, in Man's mind, is reserved for tarts and courtesans. Womanhood, in Man's world, exists to remain undiscovered by all women.

Queen Elsa of Arendelle does not cleave to Man's conventions. Her thigh is not shy about making contact with men's hearts, and her braid sleeps freely on her shoulder from the base of a wild crown that is impearled with snowflakes. The makeup she draws on her face is noisy. The shape of her body — down to the very crack between her buttocks — can be seen through gowns that unblushingly caress her breasts. She is the master of her own womanhood, the queen of her own muliebrity, and no man captains her.

It is little wonder why princes and prudes mistake her for being a temptress whose wiles must be repelled, but the nature that had touched Aloysius at Queen Rapunzel's funeral was not reminiscent of a siren's. It was the texture of an angel's: soft, delicate, and fine. She had drifted through the doors of Corona's castle in a black dress that rippled and lapped against the shore of his mind. Her face, marbled by porcelain and pain, was palled with a grey veil that waterfalled from her headdress. Her eyes — so sad and comfortless — carried the frozen tears of a dead woman, owing their deadness to the fact that her cousin was actually dead.

The kingdom beyond the castle's entrance bubbled with backchat and chin music as the doors closed abaft her. Corona was astonied to see such a countenance in its capital, because in spite of her scrupulosity, whisperings about her affiliation with the snowstorm that had killed her cousin's parents ruined many blisses for the royal family. Aloysius could see no such villain from the Great Hall; all he beheld was a bondslave manacled by her own redemption. Queen Elsa was the bondage master in her own bondage — the oppressor of her own power — and in return for mankind's crucifixion of her, she had reconciled herself — as all saints do — to the mission of trampling hate with love. Hans was a lubberwort not to see that she is Man's goddess: the self-sacrificial deity who is etherealized by Love because she is Love, and Love is she.

Her divinity honed into a ray of light that goldened Aloysius's soul when she walked into the sea of men. Through them swam his three older brothers, who were eager to bid her and her inferior sister their insincere condolences. She smiled at them as sincerely as she could in spite of her anxiousness to see her cousin's widower and the newborn who killed her. Then, as if the stars had arranged such a godsend, her eyes laid upon  _him_ , and the eyes did not flatten his humanity with repulsion. Surprise was the reply that flowered in their orchards; from that bud bloomed empathy, and thenceforth, a garden of warmth. This warmth sighed through him like oxygen, pumping life into his heart and ballooning his lungs with purpose. He could not gaze at his resurrector one second more without ending eye contact altogether.

_"This is our twelfth brother, Prince Aloysius."_

The introduction forced him into speech, but he beheld her not.  _"My..."_

His brothers waited.

_"My..."_

The room shrank.

_"My deepest sympathies go out to you and your family, Your Majesty. Queen Rapunzel was a luminous soul in this caliginous world. May my condolences bring you comfort and may my prayers ease your agony."_

Queen Elsa folded back her veil and blessed him with her allness. Such inner beauty was unspeakable. _"Thank you for showing my sister and I that we are not alone in our grief, Your Highness."_  Her slender voice echoed the melodies of a harp. _"Your condolences warm our hearts."_ It was a longer response than what his brothers had received, and it was ribboned with a smile that was for him, and him only.

Aloysius kept the gift close to his heart long after his departure from Corona, wondering all the while if her frozen tears would fall for her cousin's widower once she had learned of his "suicide." Poison was eating Flynn Rider as they spake. If Queen Elsa cried, then she would have cried because she did not know the true face of the man on Corona's throne. How ingenuous she is, Aloysius thought. How incorrupt and conciliatory, yet ever so misguided.

Over the weeks that cascaded, Rider's annihilation was foiled by a traitor who couldn't keep his pretty mouth shut, and the Southern Isles clan was then forced to dispel suspicions about their role in the scandal. Rider was no lubberwort; he dedicated time to finding proof, but proof never found him. Aloysius watched bitterly beside the world as Queen Elsa pledged her troth to and solidarity with the crowned criminal. Ragnar, on the other hand, was tickled by the new developments. He suggested that it would have been more "fun" to help Flynn Rider drive King Frederic's kingdom into the ground; and "fun" described his siege appropriately to Flynn's renegades.

Death was unleashed upon the docks of Corona in a sweeping mist of pestilence and famine on February 29th. Ragnar had officered the fusillade by planting corrupters in Corona's government and trading sick livestock with their merchants. The [_Bovi Fever_ ' _s_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5674921/chapters/14064106) late incubation stages worked the most charms on Corona's devolution. Other puddings were delivered to Ragnar's table as well, but his main dessert, to Aloysius's dolor, was Queen Elsa's hymen.

“Daydreaming again, Little Lottie?"

The interruption shook a glare from Aloysius's countenance. In the corner of the room that no sunbeam would touch, Ragnar loafed in Father's favorite armchair — a favorite because he had strangled Grandpapa in it — and smiled at his burned brother with mellow eyes. Such kind eyes they seemed, with their sleepy droop and idyllic glaze. This Westergaard, who is the present intimidator of every, stands shorter than them all. He is crowned with a wildfire of curls that touch his ankles, enameled with skin as white as alabaster, and weaponed with eyes as blue as [ _Forget-Me-Nots_](https://www.google.com/search?q=forget-me-nots+flowers&rlz=1C1CHZL_enUS740US740&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj549r_wN_XAhUJrVQKHX1uBdgQ_AUICigB&biw=1098&bih=740).

Effeminacy enwomans Ragnar's appearance with beauty despite the authority he mans, and his voice when in use sounds asleep.

"I was _reading,_ " Aloysius hissed; too reclusive, too dark, and too dismal of a creature to assert himself like a man now that he is no longer human in the face. Ragnar shares his  _Forget-Me-Nots_ and blushing curls with Aloysius, but the bewhiskered outcast is rosier in complexion and manlier in build. It is only the accursed scar that eclipses and shames his otherwise Grecian beauty. 

"Spells on how to bewitch Queen Elsa, I measure?" Ragnar brushed the tail of his braid against his smile. "Magic is inherited, not learned. Having premonitions isn't the same as having magic." 

"I _already_ know that," Aloysius struck back, careful not to put his weight into the lunge. A sparring match with Ragnar will tumbleweed into a waltz, and Aloysius disdains Ragnar's waltzes. 

Ragnar chuckled. "You do realize that I'm an avid reader of your unrequited love story, don't you? Your point of view is very easy to drink." He patted the chair's knuckles. "Her interior is undiscoverable and characterful all in one gulp, which is what makes her alluring to you. Is that all about right?"

 _“Interior,”_ he had said. Aloysius understood what the backstabber meant by “interior.” It was the twentieth time he had summoned Queen Elsa's portrait in one week, and the reason was not because he fancied her fairness. Human desire is lost on Ragnar. Sex for him means engaging in loathsome acts that must be chinned for the preservation of his own genes, which leaves only one urge in its place.

The thought of his brother's thoughts about Queen Elsa empurpled Aloysius with hate, but he was helpless to stop Ragnar from colonizing the queen's selfdom. If he had known back in February what he knew now, he would have attempted suicide far sooner than he has tried. 

"It is because of my enthrallment that I have chosen to make amends with you," Ragnar clarioned. "You have endured much unhappiness because of your brothers. We have driven your pregnant wife to commit suicide, burned your face because we were deeply jaundiced whenever we saw its beauty, and sodomized your dignity by unmanning you. Now you are lonesome and decrepit, unable to acquire a woman's touch without sending for it. You deserve more than a life in the shadows of your room, Lottie." 

The sheer meanness in this man's niceness broke Aloysius's silence. "What have I ever done to make you _torment_ me so?" He tore off his [cravat](http://www.perioddramas.com/images/regency-cravat-neckcloth.jpg) and threw it at the ground, where a filigree of dust plumed up to accept the donation. "What _scurrilous_ **offense** have I ever  _committed_?"He was crying though he meant to be growling. 

"Shhh." Ragnar pursed his lips against his finger. "You'll wake Father's ghost with that volume, and you don't want that." His mellow eyes favored bridges as his smile stressed the crinkles around them. " _But_ , if we _must_ talk crime,"—the ginger king arranged his fingers into a pyramid—"then I'm sure impregnating my late wife on the eve of our wedding is condemnable in most countries. Being the impressed brother that I was, I forgave you a year later, so there are no grudges here."

Aloysius kept a flustered eye upon him. "I don't understand the complexion of your _character_ , Ragnar—"

"Then understand this. Recall that Princess Anna has landed herself in a [morganatic marriage](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morganatic_marriage) with an ice harvester, of all lowborns, which means that no son of his will be enthroned.” Ragnar tong-fed livers to the [white gyrfalcon](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b0/97/4a/b0974a2f73ce8d2e6928411dd356fc2c.jpg) that perched Father's table.

Merlin was the beast's name. Tamed yet mighty, Merlin had been purchased by Ragnar from Queen Elsa's raptor trader as a token of peace between Arendelle and the Southern Isles. A meat curl fell from Merlin’s snapping beak and slapped the table, saucing the oak wood. 

"Hmph." Ragnar sucked a bead of blood off his thumb as he enjoyed Merlin’s attack on the giblet. "The more Elsa realizes that she is getting old, the more Arendelle shall find herself in need of _me_. However, Elsa doesn’t seem interested in the match because my politics are not liberal enough for her."

Relief would have imbued Aloysius with ease if he had not been familiar with his brother's madness.

"I can't complain." Ragnar's smile turned shy. "If I were her, I'd deny me, too." He left Father's chair and headed towards Elsa's portrait, which the holder struggled to straighten. "Unfortunately, I can't let this nonesuch go." Ragnar grabbed the bronze frame. "My first wife was an inconvenience who couldn't give me a son, and so I sent her and my daughters to a place they'd enjoy—" 

"Hell." 

"Heaven, Little Lottie. The hell is us, the Southern Isles. Heaven is better than the hell we create for our women." It goes without saying that Ragnar genuinely thinks of their murder as an act of kindness. He did not carve them open on behalf of the same belief.

In some ways like the mortician whom he calls his brother, Aloysius knows not what it means to love a wife and child. He had no attachment to his princess; no affection; no _regard_. What the prince had loved was her love for him, and when she hung herself in his bed chamber, he grieved not the woman's death, but the death of his ego feeder. No matter the degree of heartlessness in that reaction, he was never as neglectful and barbarous to his wife as Ragnar had been to his. 

"If I had Elsa," Ragnar tabled the odious dream, "it wouldn't matter if we had a litter of girls or boys. Can you imagine, fathering weapons of mass destruction? Little godlings whose very names will shake the stars?" He swept his bloodstained thumb across Queen Elsa's innocent smile. "She will improve our bloodline by turning us into Almighties. Hans wasn't thinking when he savaged this nonpareil, but I hope you'll be more prudent."

The flame of Aloysius's fury, which had been burning through his candle wax flesh just before, was now extinguished. 

Ragnar's shoulders trembled with stifled laughter. "Is that the sound of _gratitude_ that I hear?"

Aloysius was barely a man with life in him. " _I_ don't—...I-I don't..." 

"Understand the complexion of my character?" Ragnar dismissed Queen Elsa's bringer, and then shot a smile over his shoulder. The tenderness in it pierced Aloysius's heart. " _I_ believe that you do." 

Aloysius shook uncontrollably. " _Why_?" He didn't trust this benignancy. "Why would you oar me to her?"

"I want a rabble of little godlings swinging from the branches of our family tree, Aloysius. It's that simple." 

"Is that _really_... **all** , _Brother_?"

"Yes." Ragnar turned around to glide past Aloysius with his hands folded behind his back. "As long as you don't debar me from rearing your seeds."

Therein lies the catch, yet it is a catch that doesn't fully harry Aloysius, for he has always detested parenthood. Can he live with knowing that he allowed Ragnar to poison such seeds? Seeds with the same powers that make their mother so wondrous? The question is haunting. He promised to revisit these complexities after he has grasped the first: courting Queen Elsa. 

"The Storting has accepted our proposal because they are likely to limit your power as Arendelle's king by jure uroxis. Her decision will be made before the year closes."

"...I can not," Aloysius choked. He was tasting tears. "I can not court her, not now, not like _this."_ He ripped the purple cloak off Father's dragon mirror and groped his shame."I'm a _monster_ —"

"Precisely." Ragnar's reflection appeared beside Aloysius's, angelic and unmarred. "She will see herself in you, and seeing her own reflection will weaken her judgment just as it always has." He looked at his brother and smiled at the burnt landscape that was his face, brooming copper curls off his temple with one gentle hand. "This is your last chance to be loved, Little Lottie," he whispered into Aloysius's ear as he held the back of his neck. " _Seize_  it."

Now was heard again the echo of the past, and the loneliness that deafened his days as the repulsive gargoyle of the Southern Isles. Aloysius could see Elsa's kindness reaching out to stroke his wounds and enwomb him with her commiseration from the mirror. His brother's schemes, intimidation, and manipulation slipped away from his mind as slowly as Ragnar's hand had slipped away from his nape. All that prevailed was _this_ — this one, single dream — to have a goddess  _love_ him for a little while. When night blanketed the castle, he fell into his bed thinking about what would come, what _intimacy_  such prospects would bring.

[Memories of his second and last encounter with Queen Elsa on the night of Kasimir's gala](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5674921/chapters/13811352) bobbed to the surface of those thoughts. 

 _"Does my face scare you?"_   he had asked, staring at the confetti on his feet because he could not bear her handsomeness without sweating. 

 _"No,"_  Queen Elsa almost laughed like it was the most ridiculous question in all the world. _"No, of course it doesn't," _she softly reassured. _"Why would it?"_

His esophagus narrowed. Swallowing, just like breathing, had been made impossible by her inconceivable purity.

_"..Do I scare you, Your Highness?" _

He looked up. She was smiling sheepishly at him.

 _You enravish me,"_ he longed to whisper, but instead he rasped, _"Excuse me."_ To the lavatory he marched, and then over the washbowl he cried, trying to find the driest end of his handkerchief to wipe his face with. She is so accepting of him; so _compassionate_ ; so merciful. She has suffered — and still suffers — the curse of being christened a "monster" like him, yet she has never turned dark like him, and she is purer for it. A deity of this prestige could baptize him with her sacredness without touching him if she willed it, but touching her — as his hands had done when their fingers first intertwined for Kaismir's waltz — will reawaken the sinner in him that desires the saint in her.

On that unforgettable night, the ivory body her spirit radiates from had tempted him with a vision of having it under him — of having its legs slung over his shoulders as its oily breasts clapped — and he clung to that vision's bedposts throughout their dance. He could have given her the most _leg-numbing_  love if she had allowed it. Could have tunneled her until her orgasm waterfalled down his balls. He could have launched himself at her — tactless and unrehearsed — to swallow her up with a kiss as passionate as his affections for her. He wanted to drink her saliva like wine, make her bleed into his mouth, and taste her rareness. 

They could have forgotten the world's monsters if she'd just let him love her, shoving every gallon of magic that dripped from her sacred flesh into his mouth, where it belonged, but she didn't want this. She didn't want him to unbutton his pants and flood her out because she is pure. He could tell from the way she had shied away from his gaze that she’s never been kissed, never felt a man's tongue polish the pearl between her thighs, never felt a man _burn between her legs_ , and seeing the extent of her purity humbled him that night.

Compared to his lust for other lowly human females, this unbidden hunger for Queen Elsa had little to do with sex. It drove him to want to get past all the skin that was in the way of Elsa and reach _**Elsa**_ ,whom he would then ensky and enshrine for the rest of his days. His sounder character craved to protect the deity from his deviltry, and thus he vowed from that hour forward to lay down his lust and pick up his forbearance for  _her_. He will not have her tainted by any man or monster, including himself.

This. _This_ is true love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was even more jacked up than [Heist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580521/chapters/17844628). Writing this made me feel way ickier, and it's only going to get **worse** , but my writing in here also makes me feel like I've improved my style. I probably should've turned this into an original work. Because I consider TBEA isolated canon that clangs against the Tangled storyboard's stanchions in almost every way, this continuum only borrows the names of Rapunzel's parents. Please leave a comment!


End file.
